


Midnight

by solluna



Series: VF Fairy Tales [1]
Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Fairy Tale Parody, M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-03-17 13:41:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3531386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solluna/pseuds/solluna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The King of Tokyo is holding a three night Masquerade Gala, and Takaba Akihito is dying to go, despite his step-father's wishes. With a little help from his "fairy godmother" and some sheer-Takaba-luck, Akihito goes to the party... but what he finds isn't quite what he was looking for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Once Upon A Time

**Author's Note:**

> So I am a major fan of all things Fairy Tale, to the point of like five-year-old excitement levels. When I saw that Disney was releasing a live-action Cinderella movie, I swooned just a lot. And then I got this wonderful idea for a Fairy Tale retelling, Viewfinder style. So here it is. I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I do! :P
> 
> Thanks so much to ptw30 for the beta, and Ashida for the excitement!

The announcement appeared in every magazine, every newspaper, and every news station in the city: a three night Masquerade Gala was to be held at the Grand Scion Hotel at the end of the month. Within hours, word spread and rumours were flying as the entire city speculated about the event. Some claimed that every celebrity in the country would be attending. Others had heard from the-friend-of-a-cousin that royalty from around the world had been invited. What everyone could agree on, however, was that the Gala was to be hosted by the most powerful, enigmatic, and illustrious man in the city, who was commonly known as the King of Tokyo.

His name was Asami Ryuichi, and nobody quite knew who he was or where he had come from. Yet in the three years since he had opened his first club in Shibuya, he had risen exponentially in power, conquering first the entertainment business before moving on to nearly every other enterprise in the city. He owned clubs, restaurants, spas, retail chains, galleries, museums, and much more. His newest property, The Grand Scion Hotel where the Gala was to be held, had not only rivaled but completely displaced the Imperial Hotel as Japan’s most famous and expensive hotel.

His nickname, the King of Tokyo, had emerged when critics had suggested that Asami was underhandedly controlling both the police force and the politicians, and thus the entire city. Numerous attempts to expose him had been made, but nobody could prove anything, and so Asami continued to reign unchallenged over Tokyo. The voices criticizing him had been few, however, and the rest of the city had no qualms about calling him the King, especially when he created so much excitement for Tokyo with events such as this.

When the announcement about the Masquerade Gala spread, nearly every single person in the city was dying to go, and twenty-year-old Takaba Akihito was no exception. As an aspiring photojournalist, Akihito had first heard the news when it spread like wildfire around his university campus, and had known instantly that this was the chance of a lifetime. The photojournalist world was competitive, he knew from experience, and Akihito had more of a challenge than most: not only did he have to make a name for himself, but he had to do it without being criticized for standing on the shoulders of his famous step-father, the renowned photojournalist Takaba Hitoshi. What Akihito wanted more than anything else was to prove to himself, the world, and especially to his step-father that he was capable of taking great pictures to make headlines, and Akihito was certain that getting good shots of the upcoming Gala was just the way to do that.

“You’re crazy, Aki,” his step-brother Kou told him immediately when Akihito explained his plan later that day. “Haven’t you heard? Journalists aren’t allowed inside the venue, and besides, there’s no way you’d even get an invite to that thing! Isn’t it like, exclusively for the rich and famous?”

“Not _only_ ,” Akihito shook his head, “I did some digging, and I found out that there are a limited number of invitations available to be purchased by anybody from the general public!”

Takato, Akihito’s other step-brother, frowned at his excitement, “I’ve heard that those have already sold out.”

“What? No _way_!” Akihito hadn’t heard that bit of disappointing news. He’d been thrilled to discover the public invitations, because Kou was right, otherwise there was little hope of him even getting in to the Gala.

“Besides,” Takato continued talking right over Akihito’s outburst, “there’s no way in hell Dad would let you go to this thing anyway. You know he _hates_ Asami Ryuichi.” All three boys rolled their eyes at the overly-familiar knowledge. Their father was a well-known journalist, but had recently lost a lot of respect for trying to publish an exposé on the King of Tokyo’s more illicit behaviour. Somehow, the photos he had taken had been proved to be doctored (even though they hadn’t been, Akihito knew for a fact) and Takaba Hitoshi had been publicly criticized for poor conduct.

Hitoshi, who had already disliked Asami for his suspected underworld dealings, had since made his loathing for the King of Tokyo clear, and swore that he would bring the man down no matter the cost. It was a vow the boys heard daily, and though they took their father seriously, warnings about Asami Ryuichi were so common that they were beginning to lose their effect, at least on Akihito.

“But getting pictures of the Gala could be the scoop we need to expose the guy,” Akihito pointed out primly. He knew his step-father’s opinion, so he’d thought this through really carefully. “Think about it: Asami obviously doesn’t want the press inside the Gala for a _reason_. If I can sneak in and get a picture of whatever that reason is, then maybe we can use it against him! I’d be helping to take Asami down, which is what Dad really wants! So there’s no way that Dad can object to me going!” Takato and Kou shot each other uneasy looks, but Akihito ignored them. Their father was going to support him in this, he was sure of it.

*

“Absolutely not,” Hitoshi’s refusal was immediate and cold, leaving no room for argument. Akihito had just finished eagerly explaining his plan, hoping to hear his step-father get excited about his idea. By the look on Hitoshi’s face, though, excitement was the last thing that he was feeling. Rage was probably closer, his face was getting kind of purple-ish, but Akihito wasn’t really one to take no for an answer.

“C’mon, Dad! I can do this! Just listen, I’ve got it all figured out—”

“Akihito, I said _no_!” his father slammed his coffee mug down hard on the kitchen table, making Akihito jump and his brothers scurry out of the room. “Asami Ryuichi is _dangerous_. I don’t know how many times I need to say that for you to get it through your head! He is a powerful man with the police in his pocket, and he will not take well to you spying on him. He could very easily have you killed if he caught you!”

“He wouldn’t catch me! I doubt he’d even notice me,” Akihito argued. “Besides, he didn’t have _you_ killed!”

“That is because I am good at my job! You are not in the same position: you have no experience, and _no idea_ what you are getting yourself into!”

“I know exactly what I’m getting into! Dad, this is what I want to _do_ with my life!”

“You want to end your life, you mean!”

“Look, I don’t really need your permission,” Akihito snapped. “I told you because I thought you’d be excited for me, but I’m twenty now.  I can do what I want.”

“Not while you live in my house you can’t!” Hitoshi’s voice rose steadily until it thundered through the entire house; Akihito had never seen his step-father this angry before. “You live under _my_ roof, you live under _my_ rules, and you will _not_ be going to that Gala. That is final, Akihito. End of discussion.”

Akihito’s eyes stung and he bit his tongue to keep from crying or shouting back at his father. He stood still, trembling and fuming for a minute, before turning and slamming the kitchen door behind him as he raced up to his room. This wasn’t fair! Hitoshi had no trust in him, no confidence whatsoever that Akihito was capable of pulling this off. But he could do it! And… and he _would_! No matter what Hitoshi said, Akihito was going to find a way to get into that Gala. He would find whatever Asami was hiding, expose the King of Tokyo for what he truly was, and get all the glory that his father had lost.

*

Of course, proving Hitoshi wrong was easier said than done. First Akihito had to find a way to get into the Grand Scion Hotel, and Takato had been right: public invitations had sold out within minutes of going up for sale. Scalpers were re-selling invitations of course, but they had gone up exponentially in price, and there was no way that Aki could afford those on a student budget. He’d tried scoping out the Grand Scion instead, but with preparations going on for the Gala, he had quickly been spotted and thrown off the premises. At this point, things were looking bleak: the Masquerade Gala was in two days, and Akihito was rapidly running out of options.

His challenge was made all the more difficult by the fact that Hitoshi, knowing his hot-headed step-son, had set Takato and Kou spying on Akihito. He couldn’t go anywhere without his brothers tagging along, and though they usually got along well, this was starting to get on Aki’s nerves. The family had even gone to the trouble of making sure that they had plans for the weekend of the Gala, purchasing tickets to a baseball game, a concert, and even trying to tempt Akihito with Tokyo Disneyland. Now Akihito was going to have to find a way of getting out of the plans with his family, and getting in to the Gala, all without being caught by his father or Asami’s security. This was starting to seem like mission impossible.

On the day before the Gala, Akihito resorted to desperate measures. His step-father had a colleague, a man named Mitarai, who sometimes worked with Hitoshi on scoops and split the profit. Akihito knew that turning to Mitarai was a risky move, for a number of reasons: first, there was a huge possibility that the older photographer would just turn Akihito in to his father. Second, even _if_ Mitarai agreed to help Akihito, he would probably ask for an unreasonable split of the profit and glory. But Aki was willing to take the chance, because Mitarai was known in the photo-business for being able to find ways to sneak in _anywhere_. If anybody could get Akihito in to the Grand Scion Hotel for the nights of the Masquerade Gala, it was Mitarai.

“So, you want me to smuggle you in to the Masquerade so you can spy on the King of Tokyo?” Setting down the camera he had been fiddling with, Mitarai leaned back against his desk and raised an eyebrow at Akihito. “Does your step-daddy know about this?”

Akihito clenched his fists at his sides and shook his head slowly. Admitting this was the challenging part, because Mitarai could easily decide not to help him. “No, because he doesn’t want me to do it. He doesn’t think that I can. But I’m going to prove him wrong.” Mitarai cocked his head and stroked his goatee thoughtfully.

“It could be dangerous, kid, I won’t lie to you.”

“I know that! I’ll make it worth the risk.”

“Well, you've got balls, kid; I’ll give you that at least. And it just so happens that you’re in luck. You've heard, I’m sure, that the press is allowed red-carpet coverage, but not inside the venue.” Akihito nodded. He was aware of that, it was a major point of his plan. Mitarai scratched his head and continued, “I’d originally planned to sneak myself in there, but I’d be too easily recognized. You, on the other hand… you’re young blood, a fresh face. Nobody would recognize you as a journalist. You could move around unnoticed. It’s going to cost you though.”

Akihito had expected as much. “How much?”

“Eighty percent cut of whatever you get,” Mitarai grinned, “non-negotiable. But, since I’m a nice guy, I’ll let you put your name on the article, so you can take the credit.” That was completely unreasonable, but Akihito knew that he wasn’t really in any kind of position to barter. Reluctantly, he agreed.

“Are you sure you can get me in though? I don’t even have a suit,” Akihito realized with a frown, “or a mask.”

Mitarai waved his concern away. “I’ll take care of it.”

“You will?”

“Of course! Look, consider me your fairy godmother, kid. You want a way to get in to that party, and I want someone on the inside to take pictures for me. It’s a win-win situation here. Just make sure you don’t get caught, or your father will have my ass, y’hear me?”

Akihito grimaced and nodded. “I hear you.”

“Good. Then meet me tomorrow at the Delta Motel, two blocks over from the Grand Scion. Be there for nine o’clock, and I’ll have all the stuff you need and a way to get you into that Gala. Got it?”

“Got it.”

Akihito managed to keep a serious face until he was out of Mitarai’s office and back on the street, but then his features exploded into a smile a mile wide. His stomach was a mixture of nerves and anticipation, but he could care less. He’d done it! He almost couldn’t believe this was actually going to happen! Tomorrow night he was going to the Gala, and everything was going to change.

 


	2. The First Night (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akihito goes to the party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I went to go watch the new Cinderella movie on the weekend... it was wonderful. But NOTHING like this fic is going to be, lol. Well, what can you expect when "Prince Charming" is Asami Ryuichi?

The morning of the first night of the Masquerade Gala dawned bright and clear. It seemed as though half the city was up early with anticipation and excitement for the event. Celebrities had been pouring into Tokyo all week, the news and entertainment industries had been holding specials to count down to tonight, and coverage of the red-carpet event being held before the Gala was going to be broadcast on every channel in the city.

Akihito was excited too, but right now nerves were taking up more of his mind. He’d woken up long before dawn and spent some time staring out his window at the slowly rising sun. Tonight was the night.

With Mitarai taking care of getting him into the party, all Akihito had to worry about was sneaking out without his stepfather suspecting his plans… which was _not_ going to be easy. Hitoshi had been watching Akihito like a hawk for weeks, ever since the first announcement about the Gala had been made. Akihito was pretty sure Hitoshi hadn’t caught him sneaking around the Grand Scion, or suspected him of going to Mitarai for help. But his step-father definitely expected him to try and pull _something_ in order to go to the party tonight. Which meant that Aki had to make his act really, _really_ convincing.

He had started the night before by pretending to feel ill and skipping dinner – which was completely unheard of for Akihito. There was no way his family would doubt that he was actually sick if Aki wasn’t eating, he was normally a bottomless pit for food. In the morning, Akihito used the extra time from getting up early to slip outside and do some vigorous exercises, which made his face warm and his cheeks red as though he had a fever. Then he emptied his garbage can and placed it beside his bed, and buried himself in extra blankets.

By the time his brothers woke up, Akihito looked well and truly sick. When he didn’t get up for breakfast either, and made no moves to get ready for his classes, his family was concerned about his illness. When they checked on him and told him to spend the day resting, Aki made sure to say nothing about the party, or the baseball game that his family had tickets for that night. He wasn’t sure that Hitoshi had been entirely convinced, but by the time they all got back from school and their various jobs at the end of the day to find him still “bedridden,” it was hard not to believe him.

Takato made dinner early that evening, and brought Aki soup and a cooling pad for his forehead. Kou had contacted his friends from university and gotten notes from the classes he’d missed. Akihito almost felt bad for deceiving his step-brothers, but in his mind, the end was worth the means. He intended to go to that Gala, no matter what.

“So you're not gonna make it to the game with us, huh?” Kou patted Aki’s head as he and Takato got ready to go.

“You’ll have to tell me who wins,” Aki smiled ruefully, making sure to keep his voice low and hoarse. They laughed and promised to bring him back snacks. Aki watched his step-brothers leave his room, only to lock eyes with Hitoshi, who was leaning against the doorframe to his room.

“I guess you won’t be feeling well enough to go to that Masquerade tonight either,” Hitoshi said slowly, stepping into Akihito’s room with narrowed eyes.

“I guess not,” Aki frowned back, trying to keep his voice and expression under control.

“Too bad… Well, your brothers and I will have fun at the game without you,” Hitoshi smiled, but suspicion was written clearly across his face. He waited a minute more before turning to go, but paused again before he reached the door. “Oh, and Akihito? We should be back shortly after midnight… and I’ll expect to see you still in your bed.” With that clear warning delivered, Hitoshi left, closing the door behind him.

Akihito’s heart slammed in his chest, and he waited a full twenty minutes to make sure they were really gone before he jumped out of bed. It was 8:20 p.m., which meant that he had forty minutes until he had to meet Mitarai. He showered quickly, dressed, grabbed a couple of his smaller cameras (the ones that could be easily hidden in the pockets or sleeves of a suit) and ran out the door.

It took him a few minutes to find the Delta Motel that Mitarai had directed him to, so he was a little late by the time he arrived. Mitarai was waiting impatiently for him, pacing back and forth in the room he’d rented.

“What took you so long kid? Thought you’d chickened out and weren’t going to show,” Mitarai chided as Aki panted in front of him, catching his breath after running the last couple of blocks. “Whatever, you’re here now. Hurry and get changed, then we’ll go through the plan,” Mitarai gestured to a suit-bag that was thrown over the chair near the dimly lit bathroom. Aki grabbed the bag and closed the bathroom door behind him to change. Surprisingly the suit, which was not quite a tuxedo but still very formal, fit him very well. A white waistcoat and matching silk tie, with a midnight black outercoat and pants: Mitarai apparently had good taste. Akihito regarded himself in the bathroom mirror, and decided that he actually looked rather dashing in the get-up. His hair refused to be tamed, however, no matter what he did to it, so eventually he left it to flop in silver-blonde strands in front of his eyes.

“Alright kiddo, here’s the deal,” MItarai began as soon as Aki stepped back into the room, “I’ve got a contact waiting for you at the servants entrance around the back of the hotel. He’ll sneak you in by passing you off as a member of the wait-staff, but as soon as you’re in there, you’re on your own. You gotta find something worth a story, get a picture of it, and then get out of there fast, d’you hear me?” Akihito rolled his eyes and nodded. He knew what he was doing. “I mean that, kid, _fast_. The last thing you want is for someone to catch you. And because I care about you getting these pictures for me, I’m gonna give you another piece of advice: avoid Asami Ryuichi at all costs.”

“Because he’s _dangerous_?” Akihito asked snidely. Not Mitarai too. What, did they all think he was a little kid or something? Of course he knew The King of Tokyo was dangerous! But Mitarai didn’t seem to notice his sarcasm, nodding instead.

“That guy will fuck you up for sure. Anyway, here’s your mask.”

The mask Mitarai tossed at Akihito was simple and made of a stiff, white silky material that sat comfortably on Akihito’s face when he fastened it on to try it. It covered only his upper face, but it was sufficient enough to hide his identity and help him fit in with the rest of the party guests.

“Thanks, Mitarai!” Akihito beamed as he stuffed his cameras and the mask in his suit pocket and dashed out the door. He heard Mitarai calling out after him as he ran down the stairs, wishing him luck and reminding him to be careful. He checked his watch as he weaved his way through the streets and alleys to the back of the Grand Scion Hotel: it was 9:30 which meant that he had only two and a half hours to get in and get out.

He made it to the back of the Grand Scion, and sure enough, Mitarai’s contact was waiting for him. The somewhat harassed-looking man barely glanced at Akihito, ushering him inside and handing him a tray of crystal wineglasses. He directed Akihito through the kitchen and up the servants’ stairs, pointing through a door to the vast ballroom beyond.

“Go put this tray on that buffet table,” the man ordered, and shooed him into the room. Akihito turned back to thank him, but the man was already gone, apparently back to do his work. Aki made note of the door he had come through, hidden in the wooden panelling of the room. There was a chance he’d need to leave the same way that he’d come in. Taking a breath and carefully weaving his way through the guests, Akihito made his way over to the buffet table. He set the tray of glasses down gently, then turned around to finally and fully take in the view in front of him.

The ballroom was massive, taking up an entire two floors of the hotel. The Grand Scion had an interesting construction, with regular guests staying in the lower floors, and executives higher up. The ballroom divided the two sections, and was constructed with indoor balconies sprawling along the edges, supported by massive marble pillars and reachable through an elaborate grand staircase. Beneath the balconies, the walls were made entirely of French windows, with doors which opened to the night air and an outdoor terrace. From the ceiling dangled a dozen resplendent crystal chandeliers that lit the room with tiny flecks of sparkling light.

The room was impressively decorated as well, with cascades of flowers draped from the balconies, wrapping around the gilded pillars, and resting on the small tables placed evenly around the room. But the most impressive feature was probably the massive clock that was built into the wall facing the staircase. As big as a clock tower, the ornamentally designed glass face let the natural light spill in during the day, and allowed for an astonishing view of the Tokyo skyline at night.

It was incredibly gorgeous, but it didn’t hold Akihito’s attention for long, because the Masquerade guests were even more-so. No wonder Tokyo had been so excited for this event, with the amount of celebrities, politicians, diplomats and more who had turned out in their very finest. Tuxedos and shimmering ball gowns adorned every figure, and exquisitely designed masks covered every face. Seeing them, Akihito quickly remembered to don his own white mask to hide his identity. Not that anybody here would recognize him; Aki was a nobody, and every single person he saw in this room was somebody important. It was going to take all of his effort to focus on his mission here instead of just gawking at all the beautiful people all night.

But first things first: the massive clock was striking ten, and Akihito remembered that he’d barely eaten all day. The delicious spread of food at the buffet table in front of him was like a siren call to his stomach, and he moaned to himself as he grabbed a plate. Akihito grinned, hunger and excitement bubbling up inside him. He’d get the pictures he wanted tonight, but first he would indulge himself a little.

**

 Asami Ryuichi heard the tower clock strike ten and sighed heavily. He’d been here for hours already, but there were hours more to go before it was over. Then it was rinse-and-repeat tomorrow, and the night after. Despite being the host of the Gala, the whole event chafed at him. He didn’t mind being social at times, but three nights of mindless chatter with useless celebrities and politicians was enough to drive him absolutely crazy with boredom and frustration. Beside him, his right-hand man Kirishima noticed his vexation and smiled ever so slightly in amusement. Asami glared at him in return.

The whole event had been Kirishima’s idea in the first place. At the time, Asami had given him credit for the brilliance of the plan, but he had never really imagined that he would be roped into actually _attending_. The entire thing was a ruse after all, a carefully constructed sham meant to distract Tokyo with brilliance and splendour while Asami secretly went about the business that many people accused him of. Though it had been announced as a late opening celebration for the hotel, the truth was that the three-night Gala event was a convenient way for Asami to smuggle dangerous and powerful men and women into Tokyo without raising suspicion. Celebrities from all over the world had been flying into Tokyo to stay in the Grand Scion all week, and nobody would question the attendance of this particular set of people either: crime lords, smugglers, fences, drug lords and more had all been filtering in as well, unnoticed and even accepted as the hype for the Gala grew. 

During the day, Asami was able to hold meetings with his “special guests” without attracting unnecessary suspicion. His goal was to solidify old ties, make new allies, and branch out new routes for his shipments, and so far it was working splendidly. His guests were impressed by Asami’s business deals, and even more-so by the royal treatment they were receiving from the King of Tokyo himself. Asami smirked as he went over the day’s success in his mind, but it was quickly wiped off his face as a clumsy guest bumped into him.

“Forgive me,” he spoke charmingly to the young woman after checking his irritation. He took her hand and pressed her fingers to his lips, causing her to flutter her eyelashes and giggle at him as she turned away. The second she was gone, he turned back to subordinate and friend with a glare.

“How much longer, Kirishima? Surely you don’t think it necessary for me to stay for the _whole_ night?”

“Of course you must, Asami-sama,” Kirishima was trying to hide his smirk and failing miserably. “People expect it of you. After all, the King of Tokyo is a gracious, charming and sociable person, is he not?” Kirishima found Asami’s nickname endlessly entertaining. For his part, Asami could care less about it. The reputation helped him to successfully conduct his business, but he didn’t really see the need to cultivate and maintain it.

It wasn’t so much that he would rather be feared than loved, it was more that he would rather be _invisible_ than either. He wanted the respect of the people that mattered in order to allow him control over the city, but he didn’t especially want to be a beloved public figure to the masses. That just made things difficult in its own way. Such as tonight, when there were a hundred more productive things he could be doing than attending this party.

“Please just try to relax, Asami-sama,” Kirishima murmured. “The business meetings went marvellously today, and you deserve the break after the hard work.” He nodded towards one of Asami’s business associates, a lecherous man who was dancing with a young American celebrity, his hand on her ass. “Your guests are enjoying themselves tonight. You should as well.”

Asami allowed himself a sinful laugh. “Why Kirishima, just _what_ are you suggesting?”

Eyes sparkling, Kirishima just shrugged. He knew Asami well, and knew exactly what it would take to get him to relax tonight. Unfortunately for Asami though, very few of the guests here were actually to his tastes. Oh, they were attractive enough. But he found most of them to be vapid, shallow and dull. Not that he usually minded for a one night stand, but tonight he was craving something _more_.

Kirishima caught his expression and sighed. “If you insist on being bored, there’s nothing I can do to change that. But would you at least go eat something? You haven’t had anything but cigarettes since lunch,” he scolded. Asami, who was well accustomed to Kirishima’s lectures on this topic, decided to oblige his subordinate rather than sit through yet another thirty-minute sermon on his eating habits.

Asami stepped away from Kirishima and made his way somewhat reluctantly towards the buffet table, scanning the room as he went. Kirishima had prepared a dossier of the guest list for him, and Asami was meticulous if nothing else. So he recognized the faces of just about every single person in this room, even through their masks. Asami reached the buffet table and frowned as his roaming eyes settled on its only other occupant. He recognized every person… except for this one.

Asami tipped his head to the side, trying to place the young man before him. But no, Asami would _definitely_ remember a face – and a _figure_ – like this. The boy in front of him must have been a model, with his silvery-blonde hair and toned figure. He was visibly younger than Asami, but not so young that he hadn’t grown perfectly into his rather delicious body. Asami dragged his eyes up and down the young man slowly, appreciating the small details. His slim hips and round ass sheathed perfectly in his dress pants. The way the white of his suit, tie, and mask set off the lightness of his hair. His full, plump lips… and the way he was currently stuffing them with food. Asami laughed low to himself; maybe not a model then, he’d never seen one eat like this, as though it was their last meal on this Earth.

So then, who was he?

Asami delighted in the mystery of the boy as he made his way closer to the buffet table, silently stalking his prey. Maybe this night would be interesting after all.

Coming to stand beside the young man, Asami reached over and plucked an hors d’oeuvre from his plate, startling the boy and making him jump. He watched the boy’s eyes begin to widen in anger, and popped the morsel of food into his mouth. Oh, this was going to be fun. Asami grinned wickedly, hunger and excitement building steadily inside him. He would eat as Kirishima wanted him to, but first he was going to indulge himself a little.

 


	3. The First Night (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in the upload guys! I've been trying to be productive with writing essays and stuff (it's not really working). Hope you guys enjoy this one though!

Akihito glared up angrily at the masked stranger who had just stolen his food, wordless with shock as he watched the man pop the morsel he’d taken into his mouth with a wicked smile. Well… maybe the wordless part wasn't _entirely_ from shock and anger. Because as much as Aki would love to chew this guy out for his rudeness, he wasn't completely sure that the first words out of his mouth wouldn't be “hot damn.”

Unlike the brilliantly coloured dresses and suits worn by nearly every other person in the room, the stranger was dressed entirely in black, from his midnight hair to his silky mask, and right down to his shoes. And oh boy, did it ever suit him. In the swirl of colour and movement, this man drew attention to him like a black hole, exuding an aura that spoke of refinement and power. It was a heady combination, and Akihito took an unconscious step forward, entranced by the gold eyes that burned into his from behind the black mask.

Then he caught himself, and backed away. He couldn't afford to let himself get pulled in by a stranger, not tonight of all nights. He had a job to do. So he took a steadying breath and glowered at the handsome man who was currently smirking down on him with an amusement that suggested he knew exactly what had just passed through Aki’s head.

“That was rude,” he finally managed to say.

“It was,” the man agreed. “Forgive me.” The sparkle in his eyes and smirk on his face told Aki that he wasn't sorry at all.

Akihito knew he should leave, go and try to find Asami Ryuichi or something that spoke of criminal activity, but he couldn't seem to move his feet.  He was glued to the spot, caught in the orbit of this intense man who hadn't taken his piercing eyes off Aki once in their entire interaction.

Flustered, Akihito tried to come up with something to break the tension. “If you knew it was rude, then why did you do it?”

The stranger tipped his head to the side, regarding Akihito. “I wanted to see what you would do,” he said after a moment. That pissed Akihito off, and snapped him right out of his awestruck trance.

“What, so I’m some kind of entertainment for you? Asshole.” He turned to walk away, but was stopped immediately by a firm hand on his arm.

“Wait – forgive me,” the dark-haired man said again, using his grip on Akihito’s arm to steer him around until they stood inches apart. “But can you blame me? I’ve been bored all evening, until I saw you. I couldn't help but want to find an excuse to interact with you.” His voice was dangerously smooth, but Akihito narrowed his eyes at the rather lame excuse. This man was a charmer, to be sure, but Aki would be damned before he let himself fall completely under his spell.

“I _can_ blame you,” Aki told him tartly, “because you could have just said ‘hello.’”

The man laughed, rich and deep, a sound that made Akihito’s cheeks flush and heat pool low in his gut. The hand that was still on his arm slid smoothly up his shoulder to rest against his back, and the man leaned in closer.

“Hello,” he purred, his warm breath tickling Akihito’s ear. A shiver traced its way down Aki’s spine, and the man pulled back to smirk at him. “Dance with me,” he said, not even pausing to wait for an answer as he used the hand on Aki’s back to guide him firmly through the crowd and onto the dance floor. Akihito stumbled along with him, trying to protest.

“Dance with y— but I’m a _boy_!”

With extreme amusement visible even through the mask, the man regarded Akihito. “Are you? _Really_?” His tone was dripping with sarcasm, and his eyes were dancing with mirth as he rolled them. “Of course I know that you’re a boy, but I’m not quite certain as to why you think that’s a problem.”

How could he not!? Men didn’t dance with other men, at least not at a public, formal event like this. Maybe it could be overlooked in the writhing darkness of a club, but not here. Akihito gestured frantically to the dancing couples that surged in graceful movement around them as he tried to pull away. “Look around you!”

“No, _you_ look around,” the stranger smiled and waved a hand towards a couple dancing not far from them. Aki’s eyes followed, and he frowned as he examined them. The man was tall, thin and serious, and the woman’s glossy long hair swirled around them as she t— wait. As the couple completed a turn with the music, Akihito saw the woman’s face more clearly and realized that it wasn't a woman at all, but a sharp-eyed man dressed in an elaborately patterned Chinese changshan.

Now that he was paying closer attention, Akihito actually saw several other male couples dancing together, and some female couples as well. Apparently this was not a place for judgment or discrimination, but one where people of all orientations could come and be free to enjoy themselves in safety. Which was nice… but it didn't stop Aki from blushing his ass off, especially when the dark stranger placed a hand _very_ low on his back and pulled him close.

“I – I should warn you,” Akihito stuttered as a new song began and the man took his hand, “that I really can’t dance.”

“Relax,” the man leaned in and breathed in Akihito’s ear, his lips grazing the sensitive skin before he pulled back and smirked, “I can. All you need to do is follow my lead, and trust me.”

Well, that was easier said than done, Aki thought as they suddenly changed directions, making him stumble against the man holding him. “And if I can’t?”

“Can’t what?”

“What if I can’t trust you?” Golden eyes regarded him thoughtfully for a minute, before a smirk broke out on the man’s face. 

“You would be smart not to.”

Akihito swallowed and fell silent, unsure of how to answer that. Instead, he decided to focus on not stepping on the other man’s toes. That was made difficult, however, by the heavy weight of the gaze that he felt bearing down on him. Those eerie eyes never left him once as they navigated their way through the swirling crowd of dancers.

As they danced, Akihito began to notice more clearly how the man towered over him. His face was about level with the man’s chest and shoulders, meaning that he had to tip his head back to meet his partner’s eyes. It would probably be easier if they were farther away from each other, but the firm hand against his back kept him pressed tightly up against the man’s body. He could feel the hard muscles of the broad chest, the strength that was controlled but clearly evident.

This man was insanely, unfairly attractive, and Akihito could easily have let himself get lost in the handsome stranger all night… but thankfully, the massive glass clock chose that moment to ring out eleven o’clock, reminding Akihito that he had less than an hour to find some dirt on the Asami Ryuichi before he had to leave to get back home before his father. So with some effort, he tore his eyes off of the golden ones boring into him, and began to examine the crowd as the dipped and danced around them.

Someone titled “the King of Tokyo” was sure to stand out, or so Akihito reasoned, but his scan of the crowd didn't really reveal anyone who fit the bill. Sure, there were some people who were dressed fancy and over-the-top, dripping head to toe in silks and jewels… but everything that Akihito had heard of the King said that he was elegant and refined. So these gaudy guests were more likely to be celebrities, or people trying to impress. Akihito frowned, frustrated. He hadn't expected it to be this difficult. He really thought that he would have been in and out by now, damning pictures in hand.

“Looking for someone?” The stranger inquired, watching Akihito’s eyes rove around the room with curiosity.

“Er… sort of,” Akihito blushed. He didn't want to reveal his real reasons, but he had an idea of how this was going to sound, “I’m looking for the King of Tokyo.”

“Oh?” The man’s eyes sparkled with amusement. Yup, just what he thought – this guy definitely thought he was some kind of Asami Ryuichi fan-boy now. Just great.

“From what I've heard, the King of Tokyo doesn't always attend his own events. Apparently they bore him,” the man offered conspiratorially, and Aki frowned. Shit, he’d never thought of that. What if Asami never even showed up at all? “But he’ll be here tomorrow, if my sources are correct.”

Did that mean that Akihito was going to have to repeat the process of sneaking out tomorrow? And how did this guy know anyway? What sources was he even talking about?

“You sure know a lot about his movements,” Akihito prodded, wondering if he could provoke the man into revealing anything useful. He got a smirk for his efforts.

“Well, let’s just say I had a hand in helping to plan this event,” was the man’s vague answer.

“You did?”

“I did,” he nodded thoughtfully. “And do you know what’s interesting about that? As a result, I recognize the faces of almost every single person on the guest list, even with their masks on… but not yours.”

“Haha, really?” Akihito asked nervously.

“Really.” The eyes looking at him, gold through the black mask, were definitely making Akihito’s heart pound. The man leaned in closer, inches away from his face, and whispered softly, “So, who are you?”

Shit. There was no way Akihito could reveal who he was. Not only was his name decidedly _not_ on the guest list, but if it was revealed that he was a photographer – even an aspiring one – he could be in some serious trouble. This guy worked closely with Asami, after all.

“I’m just small-time,” Akihito lied quickly, “I was lucky to get an invite. I doubt you’d know me.”

“What’s your name?” the man pressed intently. When Akihito didn't answer, he frowned. “You won’t tell me?”

“Why should I? Isn't the point of the mask to give anonymity?” The man looked thoughtful at that, appearing to succeed the point. Or so Aki thought, until a sinful smile appeared on his face.

“Well, if you won’t tell me your name, then I’ll have to find information about you in other ways,” he purred, and Akihito swallowed nervously. “Let’s play a game, shall we?”

“What kind of game?” Akihito asked slowly, narrowing his eyes.

“A guessing game, of course. I have to guess something true about you, and if I’m right…” he paused for a moment, as though thinking, and his eyes shone with wicked humour. “If I’m right, then I get to kiss you.”

“What?!” Akihito spluttered, shock making him try to pull away, and he narrowly avoided crashing into another couple. Catching himself before the man could, he looked up and glared. “That seems like a very one-sided game,” he pointed out.

“Are you too scared to play?” the man asked, goading Akihito with his laughter. If there was one thing Akihito hated more than anything else, it was being called scared. So even though this game seemed like the worst idea he’d heard all night, he reluctantly agreed.

With a triumphant smile, the man stared at him even more intently than before (if that was even possible – this dude had some seriously intense eyes), making Akihito squirm under his scrutiny.

“Hmm, something true about you… you die your hair,” he guessed finally, his eyes on Akihito’s shining locks.

“Wrong!” Akihito grinned gleefully. The man’s eyes widened in surprise. “My mother was Japanese, but my father was French, and I get a lot of my looks from him,” Akihito explained.

“So it’s natural,” the man hummed, reaching up with one hand to tug lightly at Aki’s hair.

“Yup. But if that was supposed to be a guess, it doesn't count, ‘cause I just told you that,” Akihito pointed out, sticking the tip of his tongue out at the man playfully.

“Alright, alright, fine,” the man laughed.

Then he leaned down and kissed Akihito anyway.

His mouth was warm and surprisingly soft, and Akihito closed his eyes as he felt the tip of his tongue glide across his bottom lip. Without really thinking about it, he opened his mouth and let the man explore further, their tongues brushing together. The man tasted like smoky cigarettes and the burn of alcohol. The kiss was potent and commanding, sending tingles running all down Akihito’s body, except for the too-hot places where he felt the man’s body against his: one hand on his lower back, the other at his neck, and their chests pressed together. The mouth on his made Akihito near-delirious as he slowly ran out of breath.

Finally, the man released his lips and pulled back slightly, smirking like he’d just won the damn lottery. Akihito panted heavily, embarrassed to be this affected by one kiss. Then he remembered.

“What the hell! Why did you do that? You didn't even guess right!” he accused. The man laughed that rich, warm laughter again, and Aki felt just slightly weak in the knees. The hand still on his neck pulled him closer to the man’s face, until they were close enough for their lips to brush again, just slightly.

“Because I wanted to,” the man breathed, with fire in his eyes.

Akihito swallowed heavily and closed his eyes as the man leaned in to steal another kiss, but right at that moment a resounding _boom!_ thundered through the ballroom, accompanied by a flash of colourful light, and Aki nearly jumped out of his skin. Loud bells tolled and chimed as the clock struck twelve, and through the glass face another firework erupted, lighting up the night. They both turned to look as the other guests ooh’d and aah’d at the lights show that followed, but Akihito felt his heart slam in time to the tolling of the clock.

It was midnight? Already? How had the time gone so fast? He didn't really have the time to question it though, he needed to be back home like _now_ , and it was sure to take him at least a half hour to get there. Oh man, was he ever done for now. His step-father was going to _kill_ him! He felt the man, who still had a hand on his waist, turn back to face him and he met the look with desperation.

“I have to go – sorry!” With regret, he ducked underneath the man’s arm and bolted, swerving and dodging through the still crowd as they watched the fireworks. He heard the man call out to him as he weaved after Akihito through the guests, trying to get him to wait, but Aki didn't stop running. He managed one glance back as he bolted past the surprised security at the door, catching the man’s expression before he was swallowed by the crowd. Even from a distance, he could see the heated, possessive look that he _felt_ physically in his gut, long after the man had disappeared from his sight.

Well, fuck.

Just what had he gotten himself into now? 

**

Asami watched the golden hair of the boy disappear out the door and around the corner, and knew it was futile to pursue further for now. His voice had been drowned out by the fireworks and, unable to hear him, his men had let the boy slip by them. He wanted to be angry with them for their failure, but to be fair, he hadn't exactly expected the young man to run away on him either.

He’d been so certain that he’d had him with that kiss at the end, like a fly caught in the delicate trap of a spider. The way the boy had sighed into his mouth, his eyelashes fluttering beneath his mask, had been… delicious. Exquisite. It made Asami breathless with desire.

He was extremely put out by the temporary delay in his plan to have the boy spread out and moaning beneath him, but beneath the disappointment there was a building excitement as well. Though the boy had run, Asami knew in his gut that he would be back tomorrow night. And this time, there was no way he would let him get away again. The alluring young man _would_ be his; Asami would make sure of it.

With one last look at the door, Asami strode through the crowd to find Kirishima, and then head to the office of his security team to plan for tomorrow. He smiled darkly, his stomach coiling with anticipation.

If there was one thing Asami Ryuichi loved, it was the chase.


	4. Tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I just wanted to say that I'm really sorry for having disappeared for such a long time. I've been really busy, and recently I've been dealing with some pretty stressful situations, and unfortunately I just haven't had the time to sit down and write. That being said, I totally thought that I'd posted this chapter a long time ago....... so I'm super sorry for taking this long to update it!! Hopefully I'll find time soon to write more, and in the meantime, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

“.. and we can have a shipment ready as early as next week. Does that suit you, Asami-san?”

The sound of his name startled Asami from his reverie, though his expression didn’t change and nobody but his assistant seemed to have noticed. His eyes flicked over to see Kirishima watching him carefully with an unreadable expression, but when he raised an eyebrow, all his secretary did was roll his eyes and nod.

“Of course,” Asami replied smoothly, reaching to shake the hand of the European man seated to his left, “it will be a pleasure doing business with you. Gentlemen, why don’t we break for fifteen minutes?”

The European preened with pleasure as he shook Asami’s hand, then stood with the others as they left the room to stretch their legs after hours of discussion and planning. Asami watched them go with a frown.

He had no idea what deal he’d just made. It must be one that Kirishima approved of or he would have stepped in, but still, Asami was shocked at his own behaviour, zoning out in the middle of an important business meeting. The entire point of hosting these three Gala nights had been these business meetings, and yet…

And yet Asami couldn’t get the mysterious boy out of his mind.

All throughout the day, no matter how he tried to focus, flashes of last night, of the boy, would come to him. The patch of blue sky peeking through the clouds when he woke up in the morning reminded him of those vibrant eyes shining from behind the white mask. The music in the elevator called to mind the feel of that young, warm body pressed against his own as they danced. The taste of the hors d’oeuvres being served in between meetings brought back the taste of the boy’s mouth, hot and wanting as Asami stole his breath.

And the infuriating toll of the great glass clock as it chimed out each hour of the day made Asami ball his fists and clench his teeth as he recalled the look of the boy’s back as he ran from Asami, slipping far too easily out of sight.

No, Asami definitely could not forget the boy. He’d spent nearly every waking hour since midnight dissecting their every interaction, trying to decipher the reason behind his sudden departure from the party. The first thing he’d done this morning  was ask Kirishima for the dossier of the guest list, which he had poured over for hours, checking and re-checking every face and every name. As he’d suspected, none were his mysterious young man.

“You’re thinking about him again, aren’t you?” Kirishima sighed, and Asami noted for the first time that his secretary had lingered while everyone else had left. Asami met Kirishima’s gaze evenly, not denying the accusation as he was handed a detailed report of the meeting that had just finished. Not for the first time, Asami was grateful for the diligence of his secretary, who understood that Asami had barely registered a word of what had been spoken today.

As Asami browsed through the report (the deal with the European had indeed been a good one, he was pleased to note), Kirishima eyed him with a perplexed frown. “Forgive me for saying, Asami-sama, but this behaviour just isn’t like you,” he chided, but it was less in frustration than it was in confusion.

Asami knew it wasn’t like him, but how to explain? He could no more understand his strange fascination with the boy than Kirishima, it seemed. He admitted as much to his secretary.

“Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that he was brave enough to run from the King of Tokyo?” Kirishima smiled just slightly, but it was enough to let Asami know that he was amused. Asami, on the other hand, was frustrated.

“Perhaps… but no. He didn’t know who I was.”

“He didn’t?” Kirishima was surprised.

“No,” Asami shook his head thoughtfully, “he said he was looking for the King of Tokyo – for me, but I’m certain he had no idea that we were the same person.”

“And you said that he wasn’t on the guest list?” Kirishima’s frown this time was filled with a deep suspicion. “Asami-sama, are you certain this boy wasn’t a spy? Or a mole? Perhaps he was just pretending not to recognize you.”

“No, the boy wouldn’t have it in him to be a spy,” Asami said, though he smiled at the thought of it, of his boisterous blonde trying to be sneaky. “It’s more likely that he’s just fascinated by the limelight, and all the celebrities attending as guests. He did seem very caught up with them.”

Kirishima wasn’t convinced. “He could be a reporter. He wouldn’t have been the only one to try to sneak in last night.”

At that, Asami laughed, “If he is, then he’s more ballsy than I thought. Ah well, one way or the other, I suppose I’ll find out soon. Are the preparations complete?”

Kirishima nodded and assured him that everything was in place. Asami had spent several hours with his security team, tightening every loose string in his web. He had extra men, extra cameras, and everyone had been briefed and alerted: under no circumstances were they to let the boy slip through them. There would be hell to pay if they did.

As Asami had said, one way or another, he would have his answers soon. Asami always got what he wanted, and he hadn’t wanted anything as badly as this boy in a long, long time.

Allowing himself a very slight smirk, Asami signalled Kirishima to gather the other business men for the rest of their meeting, resolving to try to focus more for the afternoon session. But instead of paying attention, Asami found himself planning out in exquisite detail what he would do to the boy once he had him in his grasp. As it turned out, the meeting worked well in Asami’s favour, largely due to the fact that all his associates were quietly terrified of the extremely pleased expression on Asami Ryuichi’s face.

Oh yes. Tonight was going to be good.

*

 Tonight was going to be awful.

Akihito couldn’t even believe that he’d messed up this bad. What the hell had he been thinking last night? The plan had been so simple: get in, get pictures, get out. But nooo, he had to go and get all star-struck by some obscenely gorgeous asshole, and not been able to get a single shot. Which meant that tonight it was going to be even _harder_ to sneak in to the Gala and get the pictures he needed, because Mr. Stupidly Handsome was going to be on the lookout for him – _and_ he worked with Asami. Oh yeah, Akihito was royally fucked.

Not that dancing with and kissing the dude had been especially awful. In fact, Akihito was willing to admit to himself that it had felt pretty incredible, to hold the attention of a guy like that. And whoa, could he ever kiss. Aki still felt tingly and too warm when he thought about the man’s lips devouring his own.

But his distraction had nearly cost him dearly. In fact, he had _just_ made it home in time last night, and only because his family had “happened” to run into Mitarai and stopped to talk. Thank heavens for his self-proclaimed fairy godmother, or Aki would have been completely and utterly busted. As it was, he’d only just leapt back into bed (still wearing his suit and dress shoes) by the time his family got back a half-hour after midnight. 

Mitarai had been pretty pissed at Akihito when he’d called to say that he needed to sneak back into the Grand Scion today, though.

“What the hell do you mean, you didn’t get any pictures!?” Mitarai had yelled over the phone, making Aki wince and move the device away from his ear. “What do you think I snuck you in for, fun? Jesus, kid, what the fuck were you doing? Please don’t tell me dancing or some shit like that.” Akihito didn’t tell him, and was immensely relieved that Mitarai couldn’t see his guilty expression over the phone.

“Apparently the King wasn’t even there last night,” Akihito defended himself.

“Hah? Stupid brat, of course he was. Asami Ryuichi always attends his own events,” Mitarai countered, “that’s part of why the ignorant common people love him so much.”

“But I met someone last night who told me that he didn’t,” Akihito frowned, confused. The golden eyed man had definitely said Asami wasn’t there.

“Look, I don’t know who you got that information from, but whoever it was, they were wrong. Asami was definitely there. But that’s not the point right now,” Mitarai sighed, “I’m gonna have to pull some serious strings to get you in to that party again tonight, Cinderella. And tonight’s ball isn’t even one you can get into with a simple mask either – you’re gonna need a costume this time.” 

“A costume?”

“Yup. Listen, kid, give me a few hours to work this one out. Meet me at the same place and time as last night, alright?”

“Thank you so much, Mitarai,” Akihito was definitely gonna owe the older photographer big time, a thought that he didn’t really want to consider too deeply at the moment.

“Whatever, just leave it to your fairy godmother,” Mitarai teased, “but kid? You had better get those damn pictures tonight.” And with that, he hung up. Akihito sighed heavily, dragging his hands over his face. That was one problem down. Now he just had to figure out how to sneak out of his house again—

“Who were you talking to just now?”

Akihito jerked in surprise as he looked up to find his step-brothers leaning on either side of his doorframe. Kou was grinning at Akihito’s panicked expression, but Takato was frowning at him ever so slightly.

“Don’t you two _knock_?!” Aki complained.

“Dude, your door was already open,” Kou laughed as he stepped in to flop down on Akihito’s bed, “besides, you didn’t answer the question.” He prodded Akihito firmly in the chest and gave him a superior look. Akihito loved his step-brothers, but damn they could be annoying sometimes.

“Just a classmate from school,” Akihito lied, trying not to meet Takato’s suspicious gaze without looking too shifty, “Kou apparently got me the wrong notes when I was sick yesterday.”

“Did I? Sorry, man,” Kou shrugged nonchalantly. “But anyway, how are you feeling today? You missed a sweet game last night!”

“Uhh, mostly better I guess. Still not up to going out tonight though,” Akihito answered, hoping that his brothers would buy the lie.

“Damn, that sucks,” Kou frowned, glancing over at Takato conspiratorially, “Dad asked us to look after you while he’s out tonight, but we were hoping you’d be up for going to a club!”

Akihito sighed heavily. “You can go without me, you know. I’m not some little kid who needs you guys to babysit me when I’m sick,” he complained.

“I’m not entirely certain he meant because you’re “sick,” Takato smiled slightly. “After all, tonight is the second night of that Masquerade Gala you were so keen on getting into.” Oh, shit. Did Takato suspect him?

“Come on dude, there’s no way I could go feeling like this,” Akihito tried really hard to keep his voice sounding calm and sincere, “besides, it’s like you said: there’s no chance that I could get into an event like that.”

“Well, you’ve certainly changed your tune about it,” Takato mused. “Weren’t you the one who said you would find a way to get in there, no matter what? I thought you wanted to prove yourself to Dad.”

“I _do_!” Akihito snapped. Then, catching himself, he added, “but maybe there’s a better way to do it. I mean, I’ll have other chances, right?” Kou nodded emphatically, but Takato didn’t seem to buy Akihito’s claim. Akihito decided to change the subject. “Where’s Dad going tonight anyway?”

“On a job,” Kou explained. “He got a tip. Apparently a bunch of big shot drug dealers and traffickers from foreign countries were spotted around Tokyo. He thinks they’re probably here under the cover of the Gala the King is hosting. I guess he figures if he can get shots of them, he might be able to link them back to Asami.” Despite himself, Akihito felt his eyes widen, and Takato caught the look and jumped on it.

“Yeah, that Gala that you’re definitely _not_ going to sneak into tonight, right Aki?” his step-brother asked sarcastically, but Akihito could see the seriousness in his expression. “You understand, right? Dad’s isn’t wrong about it being dangerous. You could have been seriously hurt if you’d been caught last night.”

“I know that.”

Kou looked surprised at Akihito’s admission, but Akihito just met his step-brother’s eyes evenly. Although he didn’t know how, it was clear that Takato had figured him out. There was no point denying it now… but that didn’t mean that Akihito was going to give up. Takato saw the determination in Aki’s eyes and rolled his own.

“You’re still going to go anyway, aren’t you?”

“Yup.”  No point denying that either. Kou burst out laughing, and Takato gave him a look that was frustrated, but also amused. And maybe even a little proud.

“Fine,” he sighed, “since you’re gonna go either way, Kou and I will help you out. We’ll tell Dad we brought you to the club with us, but you’d better get home in time. Dad will be seriously pissed if he finds out you went to that party.”

“And,” Kou interjected pointedly, “you are going to owe us so big for this. Especially ‘cause if Dad catches you, then it’s our asses on the line as well.” Akihito laughed and promised that he would try his best to not get caught.

“Also, if you meet any cute celebrities, you have to promise to hook me up!” Kou added with a grin.

“I’m pretty sure Aki’s definition of ‘cute’ does not match up with yours, Kou,” Takato snorted.

“Hey, I’m sure he still knows a cute girl when he sees one,” Kou protested, “right, Aki?”

Akihito laughed as he got dragged into his step-brothers’ banter, and he joined in with relief. He hadn’t realized until now just how much lying to them had been bothering him. He knew they were still worried about him, but it was also nice to know that they had his back tonight. With that, Akihito enjoyed the rest of his day, making hanging out with his brothers and making plans for sneaking into the Gala again in the evening.

Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad after all.

 


End file.
